


Sands of Time

by akinasperanza



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Protagonist, Friends to Lovers, Gryffindor!Daphne, Merlin Descendant, Old Magic, Rebellion, Sirius Black exoneration simply for wish fulfillment, Snake in Lion's Fur, The author craves political worldbuilding, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), grey characters, hell yeah we're going there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akinasperanza/pseuds/akinasperanza
Summary: Daphne Greengrass believed in many things. She believed in luck, magic, the gods, and above all else Daphne believed in loyalty. When she became friends with Harry Potter, she had never expected that her belief in all of these things would be tested but, after all, belief could only get you so far. Rebellion, however, could get you so much further.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Ginny Weasley, Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Dean Thomas, Luna Lovegood/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41
Collections: That Writing Place Fic Drop





	1. To The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This piece has been in the works for well over a year and a half by now, and though it will definitely be tweaked along the way, I'm thrilled to finally be posting it. Huge thank-you goes to shini_amaryllis for letting me rant about my love for Daphne Greengrass at all hours of the night and day.  
> This is also being cross-posted to fanfiction.net!
> 
> Happy reading :)

**July 31, 1991**

After the rain of the previous day had left London hot and muggy, Daphne Greengrass could hardly wait to escape the humid blanket smothering Diagon Alley.

Clearly, everyone and their owl had had the same thought, because the crooked alley was as crowded as Daphne had seen it until now while wizards left and right did their very best to get their shopping out of the way before the temperature rose even further. Daphne’s school books were already stacked neatly on her desk at home–her mother had stopped off to collect them on the way home from the shop, not even a few days after Daphne had received her letter–but she wanted to make sure she stocked up on her spare reading material before she began her journey to Hogwarts on September 1st.

_Hogwarts._ Even thinking about the castle sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. Daphne had been raised on her parents’ tales of their days in school, from the time that the window of the Slytherin common room cracked and sent a spray of lake water directly at her mother, to when her father returned to Hogwarts after a few too many firewhiskeys at the Three Broomsticks and couldn’t work out the riddle to his common room door and was woken up at lunchtime the following day. Their stories were exciting and promised an unforgettable experience—but Daphne had to get there first.

Finally, after elbowing her way past the crowd of people in front of her, Daphne made it to the doorstep of Flourish and Blotts and wrenched the door open, the cool air hitting her like a ton of bricks. Sighing in relief, she stepped inside and allowed the nice cold draught to envelop her senses for a few moments before making her way to the entresol floor and weaving her path slowly through the aisles.

Virtually an hour had passed, and a steady stream of customers had entered Flourish and Blotts while Daphne had tucked herself away in one of the upstairs corners with a small stack of books. As she finished her final book, a textbook on toxic potions fumes, and stood to return it to its shelf she instead found herself crashing into a slight figure, sending them both careening to the floor and almost upsetting a particularly precarious stack of Arsenius Jigger textbooks in the process.

Pushing her hair behind her ears, Daphne hurried to collect the books that she had been carrying before assisting the boy with his.

“I’m so sorry,” Daphne apologised profusely, helping the boy stand. He shrugged, his emerald eyes piercing into hers as she handed his books to him. “It’s not a big deal.”

The pair of them settled into an awkward silence as they shelved their books.

“Are you going to Hogwarts too?” The boy suddenly spoke up, and Daphne briefly felt startled as she shifted her eyes to where he stood beside her. He hardly looked old enough to be attending Hogwarts, with his slight frame, but she guessed that appearances could be deceiving. Of all people, she should know.

“Oh! Yeah, I am,” she spoke after she realised she hadn’t yet given him an answer. “Do you know what house you’re going to be in?”

He seemed to be trying to hide his confusion, in the way that he shook his head in response. Whether he was Muggle-born or simply hadn’t been raised around magic, Daphne couldn’t guess, but she could easily see he seemed to be a bit out of his depth.

“Well, if you’d like to learn a bit more about Potions, I can recommend a couple of books?” She suggested. “My mum runs an apothecary.”

“Oh, um, sure?” He stuttered to agree, and Daphne brightened before reaching up above them, trailing her fingers over a few spines before grasping the two that she was looking for. They were compiled with Muggle-borns in mind, that much she knew, but they could be just as useful to anyone raised with magic that wasn’t very experienced with potion-making.

After handing the dark-haired boy the books she had plucked from the shelves, Daphne glanced at her watch and realised with a jolt that she was running late to meet with her mother.

“I’m sorry, I have to run,” she apologised, hastily pulling her hair into a loose braid before raising her hand. “I’m Daphne, by the way. Maybe I’ll see you on the Express?”

“Harry,” he replied, shaking her hand slowly. “Yeah, maybe.”

With a wave tossed behind her, Daphne made her way down to the main floor of the store, bracing herself before stepping out in the humid July sunshine.

* * *

By the time that Daphne had settled into her compartment on the Hogwarts Express, the time was nearing to 10 and her parents had already left the platform. From the moment that Daphne had stepped through the brick, she was floored as she took in the colourful train which stood before her, and a whirlpool of excitement began to build in the pit of her stomach as she gazed around the platform at all of the families and overexcited pets.

“Why can’t I come with you?”

With a pang of guilt, Daphne took her younger sister aside and crouched until she was looking up into her crystal blue eyes. Astoria looked far more like their mother, something that Daphne particularly noticed now, which only served as a reminder that her parents wouldn’t be able to wait for the train to get moving.

“Because I’m older,” Daphne smiled in an effort to comfort her as she tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind Astoria’s ear. “Besides, didn’t mum say you’re going to stay with grandma for a while?”

Astoria’s face brightened considerably.

“Grandma said that she’s going to take me to visit her friends in Villefranche-sur-Mer! She said that she’ll let me go swimming!”

Astoria quietened. “But I don’t want to do it without you.”

“I know,” Daphne murmured. “But I’ll be coming back for Christmas! And after Christmas there’s only a few months more and then I’m home again for the summer.”

Astoria seemed less unsure, and a few moments passed before she leant forward and wrapped her arms around Daphne’s neck.

“I’m going to miss you,” she whispered into Daphne’s hair.

“I’ll miss you too, little dove,” Daphne replied as she hugged her sister around her waist. After several moments, they separated and went to rejoin their parents, who stood closer to the train with Daphne’s luggage at their side.

As soon as they reached their parents, Daphne’s mother was the next one hugging her daughter. 

“Don’t forget to write, will you?”

“Of course not, mother,” Daphne whined slightly as she was released, before being enveloped into the shorter embrace of her father. “Remember to choose the house that suits you the most. Don’t worry about where you end up; it’s what you do in the classroom that counts,” he advised her, and she nodded before glancing at the clock on the wall. After her father had helped load her luggage onto the train, Daphne spent a final few moments with her family before they had to leave. Her mother had to open the store (Charlie, the apothecary assistant, had left for Romania the previous evening), and her father had to apparate Astoria to their grandmother’s Paris townhouse before he left to work at the Ministry.

After waving goodbye, Daphne suddenly found herself without a clear idea of what she was doing. After standing in the doorway for a few moments, she shook her head before grasping her luggage by its handle and meandering slowly down the train until she found an empty compartment.

Rather than stress herself further, she simply left her case on the floor beside her as she curled up on the plush bench seat. Daphne pulled a forest green notebook from her case, it's handwriting old and weathered. The book was written in cursive Welsh, but as she engrossed herself in the text she found herself growing used to the flourishes of the letters and finding it far easier to read. She vaguely noted when the Express began its journey, chugging its way slowly from the station, but it wasn’t until the compartment door slammed open that she glanced back up from the journal, snapping it shut as green eyes met grey.

“Good morning, Draco,” she said pleasantly, eyeing his companions critically. Vincent and Gregory she had expected–they had always followed him around at galas and lessons–but Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott were two faces she was certainly surprised to see in the Malfoy scion’s company.

She let her gaze settle on Theo, raising her eyebrow as she questioned him silently. In response, her cousin simply shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

“Sorry to do this, Greengrass, but we’re going to need this compartment now.”

Daphne blinked in surprise at Draco’s tone before turning her eyes back to his. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you’re sitting alone, aren’t you?” Draco explained, a condescending note to his voice. “But we’ve got five of us. Surely you can find someone to share a seat with.”

Daphne could feel the pit of her stomach begin to boil in anger, but she refused to play this game. Draco had spent their entire childhood seeking every way possible to earn a reaction out of her, and she refused to give in this time.

Quashing her anger, Daphne spent a few seconds clearing her mind of her frustration, imagining a blissfully blank white page open in front of her. Opening her eyes and breathing out, she stood wordlessly before gathering her belongings, only pausing to cast a stern look at her cousin before exiting the compartment.

For several moments, Daphne simply stood outside what was once her compartment, seething in silent frustration before she started her trek back down the corridors, peering inside the less raucous ones to see whether there was space for another occupant.

Daphne had almost reached the end of the train before she found a compartment that didn't seem to be bursting at the seams with people. She assumed that the train had to be magical somehow (more so than it already appeared) because it seemed to have shrunken shorter than it appeared at the station. As she looked through the compartment door Daphne spotted a familiar mass of black curls, and tamed her smile before sliding open the door.

Harry’s eyes blinked from the scenery outside the window to the compartment as he heard the door slide on its mechanism, recognition filling his gaze as he took in her familiar blonde hair.

“Hello again,” Daphne started, a bit unsure in her mission as she wrung her hands together. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Harry shook his head, and simply watched from his seat as Daphne smiled in thanks and wheeled her trunk into the compartment behind her before sliding the door shut and taking her seat opposite him.

“I told you that I’d see you on the Express,” she spoke up, lips quirking as Harry smiled for what seemed like the first time since she had seen him. 

“Did you get there?” Harry asked, and Daphne’s brows furrowed as she regarded him in confusion. “Where ever you were rushing off too.”

“Oh!” Daphne blinked, surprised that he had remembered. “Yeah, I did. I was supposed to be at my mum’s apothecary helping her out with the brewing for the afternoon. She had an assistant, Charlie, but he was leaving at lunch to pack to go off to Romania so she was a person down on Brewing Day and I said I’d help.” Daphne rambled. Suddenly, she realised that he probably hadn’t been raised around magic, and opened her mouth to explain herself when the compartment door slid open again, and a vaguely familiar figure popped his head through the door.

“Is anyone sitting there?” He asked, gesturing to the seat next to Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”

Exchanging a quick, questioning glance with Harry, Daphne eventually shook her head in Ron’s direction, and he grinned before stepping inside.

“Sorry about Ginny,” the ginger boy spoke to Harry after he settled himself in. “She’s not usually that shy.”

Clearly this boy and Harry knew each other, and Daphne had almost reached down to collect her notebook from her bag again (who likes to be a third wheel, _really_ ) when the boy stuck his hand out in her direction. “Ron. Ron Weasley.”

“Daphne Greengrass,” she responded after a few moments, shaking his hand firmly before realising why he seemed familiar. “Wait, is Charlie your brother?”

Ron seemed flummoxed. “Yeah, but how’d you—”

Daphne almost sighed aloud as the door to the compartment slid open once more, an action which didn’t go unnoticed by Harry. They locked eyes as Daphne sucked in her breath to stop herself, and his vivid green eyes were unable to hide the amusement lurking within them.

Turning to the compartment door, Daphne blinked several times as she realised that she was not seeing double and there were, in fact, two redheaded twins standing and grinning at Ron. She quickly gathered that they were more of Ron’s brothers, judging by the similarities, and they also clearly looked not unlike Charlie, who Daphne assumed must be their older brother.

How many were there?

“Hey Ron, we’re going down to the middle of the train–Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there, if you want to come.”

Judging by Ron’s reaction, Daphne could easily see that seeing Lee Jordan’s giant tarantula was the _last_ thing he wanted to do, and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a quiet giggle. The twins’ heads swivelled in her direction, eyeing her for a few moments before speaking.

“Who’s this?” They asked, turning their heads back to their brother.

“Daphne Greengrass,” she responded before Ron could. “You’re Charlie’s younger brothers, right?”

The twin on the right shared a surprised look with his brother before nodding. “Yeah, I’m George and he’s Fred. How'd you know Charlie?”

“He worked as my mum’s assistant over summer,” she explained, tilting her head to the side. “You look quite alike.”

“I _thought_ your name seemed familiar,” Fred grinned. “Do _you_ want to see Lee’s tarantula?”

“Not particularly,” Daphne responded mildly, “I see enough of them in jars to last me a lifetime, let alone one that’s still alive.”

“Fair enough,” George responded. “See you all later, then.”

After the twins had closed the compartment door behind them, Daphne, Harry and Ron sat in silence for several moments. She didn’t think that it was anything uncomfortable, they just lacked anything to talk about until Ron blurted out, “Are you really Harry Potter?”

At this, Daphne’s head swivelled to face Harry almost instantly. Of course she knew the stories; everyone did. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the infant child who had been orphaned after mysteriously defeating the Dark Lord. She knew that there were dozens of rumours about him, from his status as a Dark wizard to supposedly growing up with Muggles. The latter rumour, in Daphne’s opinion didn’t seem too far off; from when they had met in Diagon Alley, she had gotten the feeling that he was a bit overwhelmed by his surroundings and he _clearly_ had little knowledge of magic. If anything, she had simply assumed that he was Muggle-born, but this revelation fit the puzzle perfectly. However, she was somewhat struck by the fact that she hadn’t recognised him. After all, Harry Potter supposedly possessed a lightning scar on his forehead–the forehead consistently covered by his long curls.

Daphne couldn’t _believe_ that she hadn’t made the connection sooner. Astoria was going to kill her.

She zoned back into the conversation just as Ron finished explaining that he thought that his brothers were joking when they said it.

“Do you really have the scar?” Ron asked eagerly, leaning forward.

“Ron,” Daphne hissed scoldingly, startling both of the boys sitting across from her, “you can’t just ask for something like that!”

The redhead seemed apologetic, and turned back to Harry before he shook his head. “It’s alright,” he reassured, before turning his head to Daphne. “Thank you, though.”

Nodding, Daphne retreated further into her corner from where she had leant forward and watched as Harry brushed his hair from his forehead. The scar was larger than she had thought it would be, covering about a third of his forehead and shattering into varying small branches of lightning off of the main scar itself. Daphne found herself leaning forwards again out of curiosity.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who–”

“Yes, but I don’t remember any of it,” Harry interrupted Ron, and Daphne got the feeling that he had gotten hounded by very similar questions over the past few days.

“Nothing?”

Daphne directed a glare towards Ron, who seemed eager to learn everything he could about the Dark Lord’s downfall.

“Well, I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.”

The compartment lapsed into silence as Ron seemed to process the information that Harry had given them, while Harry turned back to stare out the window for a few moments. Daphne couldn’t think of any words of comfort, so she merely tapped her fingers on the windowsill to draw his attention before shooting him what she hoped was a small, supportive smile. It must have worked, because he returned it before turning to face the both of them once more.

“So, are you both from wizard families?” Harry asked, and Ron and Daphne both nodded.

“I think Mum’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant,” Ron recalled, “but we never talk about him.”

Daphne shrugged, her fingers tugging at the hem of her skirt.

“I think all of my family are wizards. My grandma’s French, so I guess there are a lot more wizards to marry in Europe than there are in Britain.”

“So you both must know loads of magic already, then,” Harry questioned, and Daphne shook her head so rapidly that several strands fell out of the braid her hair was tied back into. “We aren’t allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts either,” she explained, tucking her hair behind her ears. “From what my dad said, the Ministry has some way of telling when an underaged wizard uses magic when they aren’t allowed to. I think some kids get away with it if they’re super close to their parents, but it isn’t really a thing.”

Ron nodded along with what she said, before contributing to the discussion himself.

“I think some kids have a tutor teach them stuff, but it’s not usually to do with magic.”

Daphne nodded. “My sister and I had a tutor, but we never learnt spells or anything. We were taught how to play the piano and violin, and how to speak different languages, but nothing magical.”

Daphne could see that this had assuaged Harry’s doubts, even a little. Growing up in a Muggle household, she could see why he might feel a bit out of depth if he assumed that all of the wizard kids had been learning magic for years. Luckily that wasn’t the case.

“–heard you went to live with Muggles,” Ron continued on, “what was that like?”

“Horrible,” Harry spat, leaving both Daphne and Ron blinking in surprise at his vehemence. “Well, not all of them. Mrs Figg was nice, and some of my school teachers. My aunt and uncle and cousin are awful though, so I guess having three wizard brothers sounds better.”

“Five,” Ron corrected gloomily, and Daphne’s eyes widened. _Five?_ She knew about Charlie of course, and she’d just met Fred and George, but that meant that she was two brothers short. Thinking back, she recalled Charlie mentioning that he had an older brother, so that made six. Was the other brother younger?

“I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts, so you could say that I have a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left–Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was Quidditch Captain,” Daphne was impressed. She knew that Dumbledore took the Head appointments very seriously, and knowing that Charlie was in Gryffindor Daphne could only imagine the scrutiny of Gryffindor’s Head of House, Professor McGonagall. “Now Percy’s a Prefect. Fred and George joke around a lot, but they still get good marks and everyone thinks they’re funny. I’m sort of expected to do as well as they did, but if I do it isn’t as good because they did it first anyway. You never get anything new with older brothers, either, just hand-me-downs. I’ve got Bill’s old robes and Charlie’s old wand as it is.”

Hearing Ron talk about his brothers, and how they equally pressured and overshadowed him, Daphne began to wonder whether Astoria would one day feel the same way. It was different of course–there was only two of them, as opposed to six of Ron’s family–but she hated the idea that Astoria could one day harbour resent for her simply because of their age gap.

Mentally, Daphne made a note to make sure that she kept in touch with Astoria as often as she could. She refused to allow them to grow distant.

“What about you?” Harry asked, turning to Daphne. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Just a younger sister,” she replied, “Astoria. She’ll be coming to Hogwarts next year. She’s a little upset that she can’t come with me this year, but Mum and Dad said that she can spend the year in France with our grandma so she’s kind of gotten over it.”

“Is she a pain, your sister?” Questioned Ron. “Mine’s the same age as yours, and she’s always fussing about one thing or another, or complaining about how we don’t let her play quidditch.”

_How many siblings did this boy have?_

“She’s alright,” Daphne thought back to their music lessons, and how Astoria had made a game of trying to distract Daphne from her piece to make her mess up. “She can be a bit frustrating sometimes, but aren’t all siblings?”

Ron seemed to acquiesce to this, nodding his head quickly. “I even got Percy’s old rat,” he complained, wrinkling his nose as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat, grey rat.

She giggled at Harry’s reaction, a mix of curiosity and horror which was very entertaining. Even Ron laughed a little as he explained further, “his name is Scabbers, and he’s completely useless. All he ever does is sleep. Percy got a new owl for becoming a Prefect, but we couldn’t aff–I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

The tips of Ron’s ears tinted pink as he quietened, absentmindedly stroking the sleeping ferret in his arms. Daphne and Harry exchanged a look, before Harry went on to describe how he too had always inherited his cousin’s–Dudley, Daphne found out, which she thought was an absolutely horrid name–old clothes and how he’d never gotten proper presents.

“—until Hagrid told me, I didn’t know anything about being a wizard or my parents or Voldemort–” Ron gasped aloud, startling both Harry and Daphne, while Daphne’s eyes widened considerably at hearing Harry speak about the Dark Lord so brazenly. Some of her father’s associates, she knew, had worked for him before the war was over and even _they_ never dared to mention his name.

“What?” Harry asked, flummoxed.

“ _You said You-Know-Who’s name!_ ” Ron sounded both shocked and impressed.

“Well, I never knew that I shouldn’t,” Harry explained. “See what I mean? I’ve got loads to learn...I bet I’m the worst in class.”

“No way,” Daphne interrupted, shaking her head. “There are plenty of Muggle-borns who pick up on magic super quickly, and I promise you that I know one or two Purebloods who can barely read a book let alone use a wand properly.”

It was then that they heard a commotion from outside the compartment, and the three of them glanced up to see an elderly woman pushing a trolley slide the door open and peer inside.

“Anything off the trolley, dears?” She grinned, and Daphne glanced at her watch to see that it was about lunchtime already. They had almost definitely left London by now; the hustle and bustle of the growing city had given way to sheep and farmland, and the weather was already beginning to cool down.

Harry and Daphne both leapt to their feet to explore the trolley’s goods, while Ron muttered something about a sandwich his mum had packed for him. Daphne barely held back a laugh as Harry took in all of the sweets on the trolley–they were clearly a bit different from what he was used to. She acted as a guide, explaining each treat and what it could do while buying herself several Sugar Quills. Harry, who clearly had never had any of these in his life, chose to buy some of everything–“That way, I can see what I do and don’t like”–and Daphne helped him carry it all into the compartment before setting it down in a rather impressive pile on the floor.

“Go on, have a pasty,” Harry tried to convince Ron, as he complained about the corned beef in his sandwich. He clearly didn’t want to feel like charity, but Daphne could see his eyes as they moved from the pasty to his sandwich and back again.

“I’m not having any of them,” Daphne tried to encourage him, “I don’t like pasties.”

Seeing that he wasn’t taking from anyone’s meal, Ron finally conceded and took the pasty from Harry’s outstretched hand. Together, the trio munched happily on the variety of treats they had with them, while Daphne and Ron occasionally explained to Harry what a certain sweet would do if he ate it.

In particular, Chocolate Frogs seemed difficult to comprehend.

“They’re not _real_ frogs, are they?” Harry seemed doubtful, scanning the packet with a critical eye.

“No,” Ron answered as Daphne laughed into the quill sticking out of her mouth. “But check what the card is because I’m missing Agrippa.”

“Oh, I have a few spare Agrippa!” Daphne exclaimed, rummaging through her bag. “Swap you for a Morgana?”

After they had swapped cards, Ron went on to explain to Harry how Chocolate Frog packets contained collectable cards inside of them of famous witches and wizards. Ron revealed that he was now missing essentially just a Ptolemy, and Daphne interjected that the one card that she was missing was a Godric.

They both watched as Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog, only to reveal a familiar silver-haired headmaster in the image on his card.

“So _this_ is Dumbledore!” He exclaimed, turning the card over to read the back. By the time he turned it back around, the figure had vanished. Harry looked shocked. “He’s gone!”

“Well you can’t expect him to hang around all day,” Ron chuckled, and Daphne cast an inquisitive eye over Harry. “Do pictures not move in the Muggle world?”

“I–well–some of them do, but not like this. It’s very different.” Harry tried to explain. Her brows furrowed, but she nodded and instead divvied up the remaining Chocolate Frogs with Ron, with Harry’s permission. Murphy’s Law, one of the cards she received was another Morgana, but she also collected two more Rowenas and a Merlin. 

Daphne smiled fondly as she looked over the Merlin card. His face was as familiar to her as her parents, given the amount of time she spent with the portrait of him hanging in the library room of her home. She looked up as she saw Harry tear open a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, wrinkling her nose has Ron issued Harry with a warning, “You want to be careful with those. When they say every flavour, they _mean_ every flavour.”

“There’s chocolate and peppermint, sure, and marmalade,” Daphne explained further, “but there’s also spinach, liver and tripe.”

“George reckons he got a bogey-flavoured one once,” Ron nodded sagely as Daphne’s face screwed up in disgust. Poor George.

Carefully, Daphne plucked a vivid red bean from the bag while Ron selected a dark green. With a decisive nod, they each bit into the bean, and while Ron gagged–“Blergh, sprouts!”–Daphne grinned gleefully. “Candy apple!”

As the game progressed, they each took turns on a bean each. Curry, coffee, baked bean, grass, and anchovy all made an appearance, while Daphne took one for the team and ate the pepper bean that neither Harry nor Ron were particularly keen on.

The neat fields and farmland had disappeared from view as the Express sped through forestry, twisting rivers following the tracks of the train as dark hills rose high above. As they continued to chat and compare the wizarding world to the Muggle, the trio heard a knock on the door as a round-faced boy entered, looking tearful.

“Sorry, but have you seen a toad?”

The three shook their heads, and the boy began to tremble. “Are you sure? He keeps getting away from me!”

“He’ll turn up,” Harry offered encouragingly, and the boy sniffled before nodding. “Yeah,” he agreed miserably, “well, if you see him…” Trailing off, the boy exited the compartment and travelled further down the train. Daphne quickly double-checked her bag to make sure that a toad hadn’t somehow snuck inside, but she was satisfied that there wasn’t any creature hiding in her bag that shouldn’t have been–though her kitten, she knew, was curled up inside one of the deep rooms of her trunk–and turned back to the conversation at hand.

“If I’d brought a toad, I’d lose him as quick as I could,” Ron was saying.

“You can hardly talk!” Daphne exclaimed teasingly, “You brought Scabbers!”

Laughing, Ron agreed before looking down at his companion in disgust. “He could have died and you wouldn’t even notice the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday and the spell didn’t even work. Here, I’ll show you.”

Rummaging through his trunk, Ron pulled a very battered-looking wand from one of the side compartments, and Daphne could clearly see that the wand had to have once belonged to Charlie. For all of his good traits, he was not particularly light-handed and had accidentally broken potions phials more than once. His wand, meanwhile, was chipped in places and the unicorn hair core appeared to be poking out of the end, something Ron was quick to point out to Harry before clearing his throat and raising the wand in the air. He hadn’t yet said anything when the compartment door slid open, and this time the round-faced boy was accompanied by a girl with a bush of voluminous brown hair, already dressed in her new Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she proclaimed loudly. Daphne shared a glance with the boys before turning back to face the door.

“We’ve already told Neville that we haven’t seen it,” she responded, though the girl’s attention was far more focused on Ron’s wand than anything else.

“Are you doing magic?” She questioned, sitting herself down beside Daphne. “Let’s see then!”

Ron looked taken aback, and Daphne doubted that she looked very different. Clearing his throat again, Ron began reciting what Daphne _highly_ doubted was a real spell. If anything, she would bet that it was the fault of one of the twins. They seemed the type.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” Hermione questioned, voicing Daphne’s thoughts aloud. “Well, it’s not very good is it? I’ve tried just a few simple spells myself, but they’ve all worked for me. I’ve learnt all of our set books by heart, of course–nobody in my family’s magic at all, so it was such a surprise when I got my letter–I just hope that I’ve remembered enough. I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

Harry, Ron, and Daphne exchanged incredulous looks. Daphne had been almost certain that the girl, Hermione, was going to run out of oxygen before finishing her sentence.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered, and Daphne and Harry each offered their own names. Hermione paused at Harry’s, her eyes widening.

“Are you really? I know all about you, of course, I got a few extra books for background reading and you’re in _Modern Magical History_ , _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century_.”

“Am I?” Harry muttered, appearing dazed by this information.

“Didn’t you know? I would have wanted to find out everything if it were me,” Hermione exclaimed. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I think Gryffindor sounds the best though I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad either.”

“All of my brothers are in Gryffindor,” Ron responded gloomily, “my parents were too. I don’t know what they’ll do if I’m not, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad.”

“My dad was in Ravenclaw,” Daphne added, “and my mum was in Slytherin. I wouldn’t mind either one, but Gryffindor would be ok too. I can’t see myself being a Hufflepuff, though.”

Hermione nodded, processing the information, before standing and joining Neville at the doorway.

“We’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You three had better get changed, you know, I expect we’ll be arriving soon.”

With that, she and Neville left off down the corridor again, and the trio collectively let out a breath of air.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” Ron grumbled. Daphne agreed that Hermione seemed to be a bit much, and nodded her head against the window before swivelling around to stretch her legs out on the seat. 

“What do your older brothers do now that they’ve left?” Harry asked Ron.

“Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s in Africa doing something for Gringotts,” Ron explained.

“Mum’s still searching for a replacement for Charlie,” Daphne recalled her mother discussing it over dinner the previous evening. “I think she’s planning on writing to him later to thank him for helping out this summer. She was super stressed about filling up all her orders after she practically ran out over Christmas.”

When Ron began on his Quidditch tangent, Daphne quickly stood and stepped out into the corridor. Further down the train, she could make out the figure of Cedric Diggory and she called out to him, jogging down to meet him halfway.

“Is everything alright?” He asked as she approached him, his eyebrows furrowing as he quickly checked over her figure. Of her older cousins, she had always been closest to Cedric. While the others dismissed her and always had something better to do, Cedric was always happy to sit with her, listen to her childlike ravings, or even take her to visit Diagon Alley for the day. 

“What? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just wondering if you knew how far away we are.”

Cedric shook his head before tilting it to the side, a concentrated look in his eyes. “Maybe about an hour or so? The driver usually makes an announcement when we’re half an hour away.”

Nodding, Daphne turned on her heel and made her way back down the hallway. “Thank you!” She called behind her, waving before entering back into the compartment. She then left the boys to their discussion, tuning out and instead pulling out her notebook to continue reading.

Engrossed as she was in the journal, Daphne initially didn’t hear the train driver announce that they were half an hour away from their destination. It took Harry tapping on her page before she looked up, pink colouring her cheeks before she hurriedly closed the notebook and pushed it deep into her bag. Peering out the window, she could see that it was getting dark and the mountains and forests were barely visible beneath a deep purple sky. After opening her trunk, Daphne tucked her bag away into one of the spare rooms while she pulled out her robes. She could see the corner of Ron’s jacket sticking out of his trunk, hence why he was having difficulty closing it, and both she and Harry helped to sit on the trunk while Ron latched it shut.

After the three of them were back in their robes, Harry shuffled over on his seat to make room while Daphne switched sides so that she could face the right direction as they made their approach. Cramming their pockets with the last of the sweets that Harry had bought, at the castle appeared as a spec in the distance the three of them stood and joined the crowd gathering in the corridor outside the compartment. Finally, the train stopped, and Daphne found herself separated from Ron and Harry as the throng of people pushed and shoved to get out. She was about to fall forwards when a hand caught at the sleeve of her robe and pulled her upright–she could just make out Harry’s paling face behind two seniors standing between them, his hand still gripped tight to her sleeve.

“Sorry!” She squeaked as she bumped into two first year girls who had also linked arms in an attempt not to get lost. They both almost looked like sisters, with the same jet black hair and blue eyes, though she could see that the first girl’s hair was curly whereas the second girl’s hair was pin-straight with a streak of blonde peeking out from behind her right ear.

“At least give me your name first,” the first girl joked, causing Daphne to choke out a laugh. After offering her name, the girls introduced themselves as Felicity Eastchurch and Imogen Stretton.

Eventually, all five of them stumbled out onto the train platform, Felicity and Imogen splitting off with a cheerful farewell while Harry, Ron and Daphne bumped into each other as they tried to stick together. In comparison to the crowd of people she had been caught up in, the cold night air felt like a slap to the face as she shivered, keeping herself between Harry and Ron in an effort to shield herself as she felt goosebumps erupt across her arms. Suddenly, she spotted a lamp bobbing over their heads, and gaped as a large silhouette formed in her line of sight.

“First years! First years over here! All right there, Harry?”

Daphne shot Harry a look as a big hairy face found itself illuminated by the lamp its figure held.

“Who _is_ that?” She asked incredulously.

“Hagrid, the gamekeeper,” Harry replied mildly, leading her and Ron to huddle close to the large man.

“C’mon, follow me–anymore first years? Mind your step, now! First years, follow me!”

Eventually, the group of first years began following Hagrid down a slippery, steep path barely lit by the lamp Hagrid lofted high above his head. Daphne gripped Harry’s arm tightly as she slipped precariously as they came to a bend in the path.

The crowd gasped as they turned the corner to see Hogwarts laid out before them. Directly at their feet was a large black lake, and atop a mountain on the other side stood the magnificent castle, her windows sparkling with light in the starry sky.

“Woah,” Ron uttered under his breath, and Daphne could barely gather the strength to nod in agreement.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, and Daphne lowered her eyes to see little boats sitting in the water by the shore. After the trio made it to their boat they were followed by a boy who introduced himself as Dean Thomas.

“Everyone in?” Hagrid shouted over the commotion of introductions. “Right then–forward!”

Their fleet of boats set off across the water at once, gliding across the lake as if it were glass. Everyone was silent as they took in the scene before them, their first glimpse at the true magnificence of the castle which was to become their home as it grew ever closer. With Ron, Harry and Dean distracted, Daphne took the chance to glance around the other boats until she found Theo staring back at her, as if he had known that she was searching for him. His eyes seemed to communicate an apology, but Daphne was not able to do more than gently shake her head before she turned back to the imposing castle.

Hagrid suddenly yelled for them to duck as they reached the cliff, and they all bent their heads while the boats carried them through a curtain of ivy and along a dark tunnel before the boats came to rest at what appeared to be an underground harbour, where they clamoured out of their boats and onto the pebbled shore.

“Oi, you there! Is this your toad?” Called Hagrid as he checked the boats. From behind her, Daphne heard Neville call out “Trevor!” before rushing past their group to collect his pet from the large man. They then collectively climbed up a passageway in the rock until they came out right at the front door of the castle. Hagrid knocked heavily on the door, and within moments it swung open to reveal a tall, elderly witch dressed in emerald green robes. Based on description alone, Daphne guessed that this must be Professor McGonagall.

The doors opened wide, the first years piled into the Entrance Hall of the castle and gazed around in awe. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches with a ceiling so high it appeared to simply disappear into the void above them, magnificent marble staircases facing them which led to the upper castle floors. Cautiously, the first years followed the dark haired woman up a set of internal stairs before she turned to face them. Daphne could hear hundreds of voices echoing out from within the room behind her as they all crowded into a small side chamber to the side of the hall and awaited whatever the woman had to say.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she began, “the start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Her eyes lingered on Ron’s nose, where he had a smudge of charcoal, and on Daphne’s ruffled robes from where Harry had grabbed it to prevent her from slipping down the track to the boats. Out of the corner of her eye, Daphne could see Harry attempting vainly to flatten his hair.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” Professor McGonagall finished, “please wait quietly.”

While Harry turned to Ron to ask how they were sorted into their houses, movement to their left caught Daphne’s eye and she spotted a familiar head of platinum hair making its way toward them.

“So it’s true then,” he called out as he neared closer. “What everyone was saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.”

The crowd hushed as Draco’s words carried through the room, and Daphne glanced between him and Harry with concern. She could tell by Harry’s demeanor that he recognised Draco, but she didn’t know how they had met.

“This is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” Draco introduced Vincent and Gregory beside him, as they stood by and simply watched. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron coughed, clearly attempting to hide a snigger, and Daphne let out a sigh as she saw Draco spin upon him.

“Think my name’s funny do you?” He spat. “No need to ask why you are. Red hair, freckles, and hand-me-down robes? You must be a Weasley.”

Draco turned back to Harry as Ron shrunk beneath Draco’s hard gaze while Daphne did her best to squash the anger building in her stomach. _Where_ did he get the right to look down on any one of them? All he was doing was making himself look like a fool.

“You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You might have made a decent choice with Greengrass–” Draco turned briefly to Daphne, eyeing her hair as it began to darken with a growing smirk, “–but you don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

He held his hand out for Harry to shake, and Daphne couldn’t help the small burst or pride which flared in her chest when Harry refused to take it.

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he replied coolly, and a pink tinge made its way onto Draco’s cheeks. He seemed to realise that this was a lost cause, but before turning away completely he briefly faced Daphne herself. Before he even opened his mouth, Daphne allowed her hair to flash a dark red in warning, but it didn’t stop the Malfoy in the slightest.

“I honestly expected better from you, Greengrass,” he said slowly, “after all, a family as prestigious as yours must be careful not to associate with the riff-raff, wouldn’t they?”

Levelling her stare, Daphne stepped closer and shifted her hair back over her shoulders.

"I honestly expected better from you, Malfoy," she mocked, tilting her head as she clenched her fists in an effort to keep her composure. "After all, a family as disgraced as yours must be careful not to damage their reputation further, wouldn't they?"

Draco's face flashed white–whether in fear or in anger, she couldn't be sure–and he bared his teeth slightly before turning on his heel and storming off to the other side of the chamber.

"Wicked!" Ron whispered proudly as Daphne turned back to the boys beside her, and they collectively let out a sigh.

"He won't forget that," she murmured, and noticed out of the corner of her eye that both of the boys nodded in agreement before she whipped around, startled by a few screams from behind her.

She gasped as about twenty ghosts streamed through the back wall of the chamber. They didn't seem to have noticed the first years, floating and talking among themselves as they appeared to be arguing over something.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance–"

"My dear Friar, haven't we all given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name, you know, and he's not even a real ghost–I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights suddenly noticed the group, and they all seemed to collectively huddle together in the face of this startling occurrence.

"New students!" the Friar, a short, fat figure, smiled around at everyone. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few students nodded in response, but the entire collective remained mute at the prospect of talking to ghosts.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" The Fat Friar continued, "my old house, you know."

"Move along now," Professor McGonagall's sharp voice cut in, "the Sorting Ceremony is about to start." One by one, the ghosts floated through the opposite wall as the professor instructed the first years to form a line and follow her into the Great Hall. Until now, Daphne hadn't stopped to consider herself nervous but as they began to move into the hall, but her legs felt shaky as she moved forward. In front of her was a boy with sandy hair, and she could feel Harry nervously wringing his hands behind her as they walked through the large double doors.

As soon as she stepped inside, Daphne felt an overwhelming sense of homeliness. The magnificent hall was lit with thousands of candles floating in midair over the four long tables housing the multitudes of older students. At the top of the hall, a fifth table sat overseeing the rest of the room which was where the professors sat, the table laid with glittering golden plates and goblets matching the pieces on the students' tables. Professor McGonagall led the first year students to the very front of the hall, while the rest of the students watched them in silence. The ghosts flickered in amongst the tables and students, drawing her eyes up to the ceiling above. It was dotted with stars behind a velvety backdrop, clearly spelt with a charm to produce a reflection of the sky outside, which Daphne heard Hermione explaining to someone else behind her. It was hard to believe that there was a ceiling there at all.

Daphne raised a questioning eyebrow as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of them before placing a pointed hat upon it. For several moments, there was complete silence as everyone stared at the Hat, before a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The entire Hall burst into applause as the Hat finished its song, and Daphne couldn't help but clap along with them.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron hissed towards Harry and Daphne. "I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Daphne snorted at the absurdity of the idea of fighting a troll in the castle before turning her attention right back to Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and I will place the hat on top of your head to be sorted." She called before beginning. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line and sat down before the hat was placed upon her head. The hat had barely fallen over her eyes when, after a moment's pause, the hat shouted out–

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table to the right cheered and clapped as their first new member went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table, the Fat Friar waving merrily from where he floated in the centre.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted again, and Susan scuttled off to sit beside Hannah.

Daphne zoned out as a tall boy was sorted into Ravenclaw, pondering over her house. Her father had been in Ravenclaw and her mother had been in Slytherin, but no one in her family had ever really started a house tradition; the Hydes and Greengrasses were outliers in that aspect among their pureblood brethren. Realistically, she knew that Slytherin was a high possibility, but the only house she could truly discount herself from was Hufflepuff.

She blinked, bringing herself back to attention as Hermione's name was called. She was practically bouncing upon the stool in her excitement, and though she was not sorted as fast as Hannah or Susan, it wasn't long before the hat cried out–

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Daphne barely had time to register Ron's groan of annoyance before Hermione had run off to the Gryffindor table and the professor was reading the next name from her list.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

After reassuring looks from Ron and Harry, Daphne cautiously stepped up to the stool and waited for the hat to fall atop her head. As soon as the hat was dropped, its floppy brim covered her eyes and left her in darkness.

" _Hmm, a difficult one you are,"_ a voice spoke in her ear, causing her to jolt in surprise. " _Ambitious with an excellent mind to boot. Plenty of courage, too, I see. Enough wit to drown someone, and enough cunning to do it. Where do you think you belong?"_

Daphne stopped to think, hard, about what she knew of the houses and what she knew about herself.

 _Well, definitely not Hufflepuff,_ she started, eliciting a chuckle out of the voice echoing through her head. _I'm not patient enough for that, and far too competitive. I suppose that means that I'm quite impulsive? I like to think that I'm clever, and determined to do what I want. But when I don't, I get angry very easily._

" _An excellent assessment,"_ the Hat replied, " _but where do you think you should go?"_

Daphne got the distinct feeling that this was a test.

 _Isn't it your job to tell me?_ She thought, amused. _You're the one supposed to be sorting me, not myself._

" _How is it any different?"_ The Hat responded. " _The Sorting is based on your own traits–the fact that I am the one analysing them doesn't change the fact that they are yours."_

Daphne could hear the hall beginning to murmur as she continued to sit shrouded in darkness.

" _Nevertheless, I think that you are certainly indecisive. Very much like your grandfather."_

She took that to be a compliment before the Hat bellowed:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Finally, the Hat was lifted from her head, and she blinked as she adjusted to the briefly blinding light of the hall. Though it was slow to begin, the Gryffindor table erupted into raucous applause as Daphne hopped down from the stool and made her way to the table, rubbing at her eyes as she did so. She chanced a glance back and caught Harry and Ron looking her way, and so she sent them a supportive smile as she sat between Hermione and a boy who introduced himself as Percy Weasley. Further down the table, Daphne could see the Weasley twins grinning in her direction, and Percy Weasley introduced the boy beside them as Lee Jordan, the boy with the tarantula.

Daphne sat and watched as Neville–surprisingly, in her own opinion–joined the Gryffindor table, pursing her lips tight as Draco was instantly collected by Slytherin. As she glanced over to the Slytherin table and caught his eye, just as Theo was also sorted to the serpent house, she could see that behind the confident facade he was expressing, he was just as nervous as she was. In some way, this was a comfort, knowing that even someone like Draco Malfoy could be anxious over something like Hogwarts, but this fact had the opposing effect just as easily.

Daphne's head swung back towards the stool as Harry's name was called. The entire hall erupted into whispers and shouts at his name, exclamations of shock and surprise. She could see that he was feeling overwhelmed, and watched as he stepped up to the stool and disappeared behind the raggedy Hat like she had.

"How long did the Hat take with me?" She whispered to Percy.

"About six minutes," he responded, surprising her. It certainly hadn't felt like six minutes. "You were a Hatstall. Even Professor Dumbledore was beginning to look curious."

Daphne knew that her own father had been a Hatstall, before the Hat had made its decision and settled on Ravenclaw. When she got the chance, she had to see if she could ask one of the professors more about the hat. It was strange how the hat was supposed to sort you, and yet you ended up doing most of the work. What, then, was the point in having it?

As Harry started to inch closer to the five minute mark, Daphne saw the rim of the Hat flutter before its mouth opened. Nudging Percy, who had turned to scold his brothers, they both turned just in time to witness the Hat broadcast its decision.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table erupted into chaos as everyone around Daphne began to clap and cheer for the Boy Who Lived. The Weasley Twins began to whistle, and Daphne thought that Percy looked so proud he was about to cry as Harry hurriedly slipped from the stool and made his way to the table, making his way to his seat between Hermione and Daphne after Percy vigorously shook his hand. Daphne offered Harry a reassuring smile as, after Lisa Turpin became a Ravenclaw, Ron was called up to the stool. Though Daphne didn't think there was any doubt that Ron would get into Gryffindor, she could sense the boys on either side of her tense as Ron sat down.

Finally, once Blaise had been sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat to one side while Professor Dumbledore stood to address the hall.

"Welcome," he began, "to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

Daphne exchanged bewildered glances with both Harry and Ron as the rest of the hall clapped for the eccentric headmaster. She honestly didn't know whether to laugh or not; it seemed, so far, as if the Professor was as strange as her parents' friends claimed that he was.

"Is he–a bit mad?" Harry voiced her thoughts aloud, sounding uncertain as he glanced around the table.

"Mad?" Percy questioned airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world, but I suppose he _is_ a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Glancing down from Percy, Daphne's eyes widened as she took in the setting in front of her. What had previously been gilded golden platters were now filled to the brim with foods of all kinds, from roast meats and vegetables to Yorkshire pudding and, oddly, mint humbugs.

While Ron and Harry piled their plates with food, Daphne selected small portions of everything–save for the mint humbugs–before carefully biting into a piece of roasted chicken. It was delicious.

"That does look good," the ghost in the ruff from the outside chamber said sadly, watching as the Gryffindor first years tucked in to their meal.

"Can't you–" Harry began, before the ghost shook his head.

"I haven't eaten in almost five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself–Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

Suddenly, the ghost cast an inquisitive eye over Daphne and she couldn't help but feel oddly exposed.

"Say–have we met before? You appear familiar."

"I highly doubt it," she replied mildly, ignoring the startled looks of Ron and Harry in favour of badgering her way through her piece of chicken.

"I know who you are!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. "My brother's told me about you. You're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer_ you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy–" the ghost began stiffly, before the boy beside Hermione, three seats down from Daphne, interrupted.

" _Nearly_ Headless? How can you be _nearly_ headless?"

"Like _this_ ," he said, clearly miffed, before seizing his left ear and _tugging_ until his whole head swung from his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it were hinged. At the stunned faces of his audience, Nearly Headless Nick seemed pleased with himself as he flipped his head back onto his head.

Daphne put down her chicken. She had lost her appetite.

"So, new Gryffindors! I hope you'll help us to win the House Cup this year? Slytherin have gotten the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost insufferable."

"The Slytherin ghost," Daphne explained helpfully before Ron could ask. He seemed suspicious that she knew so much, but didn't press as they turned to look to the Slytherin table, where Daphne was delighted to see the Baron sitting between Draco and Theo. Theo kept glancing from the ghost's robes, stained with silvery blood, and back to his plate in trepidation.

By this time, almost everyone had finished their meals and were simply talking among themselves. Within an instant, the food from the table disappeared, leaving their plates glistening before the platters which formerly hosted their roast meal suddenly instead held puddings of every variety. Just from where she sat, Daphne could make out blocks of ice cream in every flavour she could think of, apple pies, chocolate éclairs, a multitude of berries and even jelly. As Daphne helped herself to the bowl of raspberries, earning amused glances from the Weasley Twins as she slowly slid the bowl away from them and closer to her, discussion turned to their families.

"I never knew my dad," Daphne heard Dean explaining to Seamus from across the table. "He died before I was born. As far as we know he was a Muggle, but he might have been a wizard. Either way, we don't know much."

"Really?" Daphne inquired, intrigued. She knew it was impolite, but it was certainly the strangest story she had overheard since she began to accompany her mother to her store in Diagon Alley. Dean simply nodded, spooning another scoop of caramel ice cream into his mouth.

"I'm half and half," Seamus supplied, "Me dad's a Muggle, Mam's a witch. She didn't tell him until after they were married–bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out!"

Daphne giggled as Fred and George exchanged unreadable looks over Ron's head.

"What about you, Neville? Daphne?"

Neville nodded at Daphne to talk first, so she addressed Dean as she continued eating her way through what appeared to be a never-ending bowl of raspberries.

"Both of my parents are wizards," she explained, "and honestly I don't think my family has had any Squibs in centuries. My grandma on my mum's side is French, so a lot of my cousins and distant relatives are scattered through Europe. I haven't even met half of them."

"Wow," Ron murmured, surprised. She had explained part of her family history to Harry and Ron on the train, so they did not seem as shocked as a few of the others were, but she still hadn't told them the whole story. She probably never would.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," Neville supplied, "but the family thought I was a Squib for ages. My great-uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off guard and force some magic out of me–he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once and I nearly drowned–but nothing happened until I was eight. Great-uncle Algie came round for tea and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by my ankles when my great-aunt Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased–Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here, because they all thought that I might not have enough magic to come. Great-uncle Algie was so pleased that he bought me my toad."

" _Merlin_ , Neville," Daphne replied, the only words she could think of. She had met Augusta Longbottom once when she accompanied her father to the Ministry one day as a kid, and to this day she had never felt so intimidated. For a small woman, in rather ridiculous clothing, her presence was almost double her height. Nevertheless, she never would have expected the woman to sanction her grandson being _dangled outside of an upstairs window_.

Daphne's head shot towards Harry as he let out a short cry of pain.

"Harry?" She called, alarmed. "What is it?"

A strange look crossed Harry's face as he continued to look towards the High Table, before he looked towards Percy on Daphne's left.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked.

"Professor Quirrell?" Daphne turned, curiously. She'd never heard of a professor by that name.

"The professor in the turban," Harry explained quickly, and Daphne nodded her head in understanding. The teacher that Quirrell was talking to seemed rather stern, with a hooked nose, sallow skin, and hair that Daphne hoped appeared so greasy only in the flickering candlelight.

"That's Professor Snape," Percy supplied, biting into an éclair. "He teaches Potions, but he doesn't _really_ want to–everyone knows he's been after Quirrell's job for years."

As Percy turned away, Daphne shot Harry a look that she hoped conveyed her disbelief that it was really just "nothing" as he had said. "What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?" Harry refused to look at her, swirling his spoon through his ice cream as he avoided her gaze.

"You know what!" She exclaimed, prodding at Harry's arm with her finger. "There's no way that that was just nothing."

Sighing, Harry glanced up and into the waiting eyes of Ron Weasley. Daphne looked to Ron too, and they essentially had a conversation through their eyes alone before they turned simultaneously back to Harry, waiting.

"It's just my scar," Harry informed them quietly. "As soon as that Professor Snape looked at me, my scar began to hurt. I'm sure it was just nothing."

Ron shrugged and went back to his dessert, while Daphne frowned thoughtfully into her raspberry bowl. She'd never heard of scars aching on command before, not like that, but she supposed that Harry's scar would be unique considering its origin. Brushing the thought from her head, Daphne turned her attention to Professor Dumbledore as he stood to his feet again.

"Just a few more words now that we're all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give out. First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember this as well," Professor Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley Twins. "I have also been asked by Mr Filch, our caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term; any student interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

Finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right side is out of bounds to _everyone_ who does not wish to die a most painful death."

"He can't be serious," Daphne exclaimed to Percy in disbelief, swapping an unsettled glance with Dean.

"Must be," Percy responded, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere–I mean, the forest's full of dangerous creatures, everyone knows that. He might have told us Prefects, at least."

Dean simply raised his eyebrows in response before turning back to the bespeckled headmaster.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

Daphne could hear the older students barely suppress groans of complaint as, with a flick of his wand, Dumbledore created lyrics twisted out of a long, golden ribbon.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," Dumbledore bellowed, "and off we go!"

" _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

It was a mess. Everyone finished the song at different times, Daphne laughing towards the end as she finished her serenade together with Ron, Harry, Seamus and Dean. Hermione had finished shortly beforehand, and Neville hadn't even started. At long last, only the Weasley Twins remained as they wrapped up their incredibly slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. The people in the portraits whispered and pointed as they passed, which caused Harry to jump the first time he noticed it. As Daphne walked, stuck firmly between Harry and Dean, she almost walked off of the edge of one of the staircases in her food-fogged state. It was only Dean's quick reflexes which prevented her from tumbling down and into the entrance hall, which Daphne was extremely thankful for as she sheepishly sandwiched herself between Dean and the wall. After walking through several passages hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, the group came to a collective standstill before a bundle of floating walking sticks. As Percy took another step forward, they began to throw themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy informed the first-years quietly. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice. "Peeves! Show yourself!"

The hallway remained empty, save for the floating walking sticks and a loud raspberry sound blown down the corridor.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

With a small _pop_ , a little man with dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, legs crossed and hands clutching the walking sticks as he floated in midair.

"Ickle firsties!" He exclaimed with a cackle. "What fun!"

Suddenly, they were forced to duck as he swooped down at them, giggling wickedly as he did so.

"Go away Peeves, or the Baron will hear about this! I mean it!" Percy barked, and the small man stuck his tongue out before vanishing and dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. The only thing they could hear was the rattling of the coats of armour as he swooped past.

"You want to avoid Peeves," Percy advised the group as they continued on. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, and he doesn't always want to."

They stopped at what appeared to be a dead-end, the wall in front of them hung with a portrait of a large woman in a strikingly pink, silk dress.

"Password?" She asked, seeming uninterested.

" _Caput Draconis,_ " Percy replied, and Daphne tilted her head in confusion before righting it and separating from Dean slightly in order to call out to Percy as the portrait swung forward to reveal a short tunnel in the wall.

"'The dragon's head?'" She questioned, while all Percy did was nod.

"It's a reference to the school motto," he explained, before pausing slightly at the end of the corridor. "How'd you figure that?"

Daphne shrugged as Percy led their group into the Gryffindor common room. "I learnt a bit of Latin when I was younger."

The room was cosy and round, filled with comfy-looking armchairs and a short couch facing a large fireplace to the right of two separate spiral staircases.

"The boys dormitory is up the left staircase, and the girls is up the right. You'll have to be up bright and early before classes tomorrow, so I suggest that you all get a good night's sleep."

With that, their crowd dispersed, the rest of the first years going up into the dormitories.

"How'd you know the password?" Ron asked as they prepared for their own group to split apart.

Daphne shrugged in response to the repetitive question. "I took Latin lessons when I was younger," she explained. "I'm a bit rusty, but I know enough."

The answer seemed to satisfy his curiosity, and that of Harry, Dean and Seamus too, because they all too happily parted ways as they went up to their dormitory.

The girls introduced themselves to each other as they changed into their pyjamas. Anna Mirfield and Natalie, the girl on Daphne's other side, were both half-bloods who had attended Muggle school together; Parvati Patil had been split from her twin sister by the sorting, but she had formed a close bond with Lavender Brown. Lucy Hurst and Fay Dunbar had gravitated to one another on the Express when Fay, who was fluent in sign language, bumped into Lucy, who was mute, while at the sweets trolley. Alison Denshaw was the only girl that Daphne was otherwise familiar with, aside from Hermione, and she could hardly say that it was a pleasure. Alison's father had worked with Daphne's at the Ministry for several years, and during that time they had been forced to associate on several occasions. It was only through Theo holding her back that Daphne hadn't thrown herself at the girl by now–she was a haughty little _toad_ , and it appeared that she had a cling-on in the form of Sally Birchgrove.

One by one, each of the girls pulled their curtains closed and fell silent. Daphne, instead sat by the moonlit window, writing a quick letter to her parents before quietly letting Morrigan, her trusty owl, out from her cage to deliver it. As chance would have it, a great gust of wind rattled through the open window just as Daphne went to close it and she shivered as she hastily pulled it shut.

Sleepily stumbling her way back to her bed, Daphne had barely closed her own curtains and crawled beneath the covers before she was fast asleep, dreaming of long silver hair and an eerie red light.


	2. Great Expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to offer an huge apology for neglecting this fic. I actually posted this chapter to its equivalent on fanfiction net about a month or so ago, but shortly afterwards I got swept up in schoolwork and so, while I was left with almost no time to write the next chapter, I wasn't able to upload this one for you guys either. I've made some minor adjustments to the first chapter, too, and overall to the direction I want the story to head in, so if you're a returning reader you might want to brush up on that. If you aren't, don't worry about it ;)
> 
> Again, I'm truly sorry, and I hope you enjoy! This chapter is far more original than the first, and I had a lot of fun with it, and I hope you like it as much as I do.

**September 2, 1991**

It was far too early in the morning when Hermione was tugging Daphne's curtains open, and she knew this because the sun had not yet risen over the horizon.

Groaning, Daphne rolled over to face the door, determined to catch at least five more minutes of sleep. Hermione huffed behind her, tugging the pillow from under her head and whacking her lightly in the back until she turned around to face the brunette with a look which could have been a cross between a squint and a glare.

"Hermione, what time is it?" Daphne asked sluggishly, passing a hand over her face in an attempt to wipe some of the sleep away.

"Just after five," Hermione responded cheerfully, ignoring Daphne's outraged gasp in favour of offering her a glass of water. Daphne begrudgingly sat up and accepted the small token of apology, running her fingers through her tangled hair.

"So, she woke you up too, huh?"

Daphne turned her head to the bathroom as Natalie walked out and back into the dormitory, in the midst of pulling her hair into a tight ponytail. Daphne nodded solemnly as Natalie snickered. "At least it wasn't only me."

Hermione was already moving on to Parvati by the time Daphne had managed to drag herself out of bed and into the shower. It didn't take long to wake herself up, despite the fact that she didn't really want to be awake in the first place, and by the time she re-entered the dormitory, wrapping her tie around her throat, Alison was irritably stomping around the room and tossing a glare in Hermione's direction every few moments.

Daphne may not have been thrilled by her early wake-up call, but if irritating Alison was one of the end results she wasn't going to stop it from happening again.

Clearly, Natalie felt the same way, tossing an eyeroll in her direction as Sally followed Alison into the bathroom. Daphne chortled quietly as she pulled the books and supplies she needed for the day out of her trunk and put them into a small fabric bag which had been given to her by her mother, charmed with an undetectable extension charm. It was lightweight, meaning that Daphne could carry all of her stationery around with her without feeling strained, and possibly one of the best ideas that her mother had had.

By the time Sally and Alison emerged from their respective showers, the rest of the girls in the dormitory were in various states of readiness for the day to come. It turned out that it was _Lavender_ who had woken Hermione so early–albeit by accident–a fact which earned her several teasing jeers, causing the tips of her ears to turn pink.

Rather than wait for their final two dormmates, the remainder of the girls all made their way down into the common room by the time it was half past 6, and already the rest of the tower was beginning to wake up. A small group of senior boys were seated directly to their left playing a game of Exploding Snap, and two younger girls were sitting at a table playing what looked like a particularly vicious game of Wizard's Chess while a large group of girls were seated at a desk near one of the room's windows, reading over their textbooks.

Percy Weasley sat with his brothers, surprising Daphne, though as she walked closer she could see that the Gryffindor Prefect was actually doing his best to ignore the twins as they tried their best to distract him from his book. Fred and George tossed her identical waves as she nodded towards them, following the girls from her dormitory to the sofa and seats arranged in front of the fireplace. Natalie scooted closer towards Anna to make room for Daphne on the sofa, for which she was grateful, while the other girls fought between the chairs and the floor. Eventually they settled, just in time to see Sally and Alison march down the stairs and breeze past them with an icy glare in their direction.

"I guess she woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Anna quipped from Natalie's other side, Daphne snorting in response.

* * *

Hogwarts never ceased to amaze Daphne as she tucked in to some French toast. The girls had waited in the common room until half an hour before breakfast started before making their way down to the Great Hall, but Daphne initially remained behind to make sure that the boys actually _got_ to breakfast in the first place. Finally, at five minutes before it was due to start, Ron and Harry stumbled down the stairs, vainly attempting to flatten their hair and straighten their ties. Daphne took a moment to help–Ron had somehow managed to put on his tie backwards, and she noted with a giggle that Harry's hair was _never_ going to sit flat on his head–before they ran down to the hall and skidded into their seats.

Almost as if they had timed it, the moment that they had found their places at the Gryffindor table the food suddenly appeared, seemingly from nowhere. As she reached for a slice of toast, she could see people at the other tables either furtively chancing looks at Harry before whispering to their friends, or just openly gawking at the Boy Who Lived. She could tell that Ron had noticed, and they shared a look over the towering platter of pancakes in front of them before the redhead turned to Harry. "What have we got first?"

"Um," Harry dug his hands into his pockets, rummaging briefly before pulling out their timetable. "Transfiguration, with Professor McGonagall."

"I heard she's super strict," Daphne shared with the boys, biting into her toast, "Mum said that once when she was in Transfiguration, the Professor assigned this one boy with detention cleaning the trophy room for a _week_ because he kept rocking back on his chair."

"Wow, really?" Harry asked, intrigued. Daphne nodded in response, tugging the topmost pancake onto her plate. "Apparently he did it every day for _years_ , but still."

"I heard that Snape always favours the students in his house. Maybe McGonagall does too?" Ron questioned as he made his way through his fourth pancake.

Daphne shrugged, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. "Mum said that the boy was a Gryffindor, but she could have gotten it wrong."

With a sigh, Daphne swung her legs over the bench and stood from the table. "I'm going to see if I can figure out where the library is before class starts. I'll see you there?"

After receiving nods from both boys, Daphne made her way to the doors and out of the hall, beginning her exploration through the winding corridors. Her mother had told her that the library was on the first floor, but it took a bit of time before she finally found the large double-doors, and it seemed like as soon as she opened the door she checked her watch to find that she needed to start finding her way to her first class.

"Of course," she sighed aloud, turning back the way she had come.

By the time Daphne had hurried across the courtyard and into the Transfiguration classroom, the majority of the first years were already inside. Frowning, Daphne glanced around the room and realised that she couldn't see Harry or Ron anywhere.

"Daphne!"

She jumped as a voice hissed her name from near the front of the classroom, and spent several seconds tracing the source before she saw Natalie gesturing to the empty seat beside her. Nodding, she rushed down the aisle and slid into her seat just as Professor McGonagall exited from her upstairs office and began making her way down the stairs.

"Almost didn't make it," Imogen whispered teasingly from the opposite row, causing Daphne to roll her eyes good-naturedly as she rooted through her bag before finding her Transfiguration textbook and parchment, setting it down on the desk in front of her as the professor stopped in the centre of the classroom, her eyebrows raising at the sight of the two empty desks in the centre aisle.

With a single resounding _clap_ , the entire room fell silent.

"In this class, you will learn to perfect the art of Transfiguration, one of the most complicated magics taught within these walls. You will learn how to transform matchsticks into needles, and mice into snuff boxes, however if any of you mess around in my class you will leave and never return. Transfiguration is a complex and dangerous art, and you could cause yourself or your classmates severe danger if you play around with it.

"There are five branches of Transfiguration: Transformation, Switching, Vanishment, Conjuration, and Untransfiguration. Each of these has limitations set upon them both by nature and by Wizarding law. Transformation is by far the most general of these five branches, however as such it is also one of the most heavily restricted. For example–"

Abruptly, Professor McGonagall vanished into thin air.

Shocked shrieks and murmurs began to sprout up from each of the rows, Daphne herself letting out an astonished gasp. Natalie's hand gripped her forearm tight as she leant forwards over the desk, her eyes wide.

"Is that–is that a cat?"

At Natalie's question, the rest of the room attempted to move forwards to see that there was, in fact, a striped tabby cat sitting on the floor where the professor had once stood. The feline blinked owlishly up at its audience for several moments before, without much warning, it began to grow and warp until their eagle-eyed professor stood before them once more.

The room quietened instantly, the classmates who had stood from their seats sinking back into them without so much as glancing to anyone else in the room.

"Oh my god," Daphne heard Natalie mutter under her breath, though she paid no notice as she kept her eyes on Professor McGonagall.

"The process of becoming an Animagi–someone able to transform into a specific animal at will–comes under the definition of Trans-species Transfiguration. This is heavily restricted in Britain, and every Animagus is required to register with the Ministry. Similarly, Conjuration is limited strictly by the Five Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. As this is the most basic knowledge which you will require to pass this class, I would like you all to first turn to page 11 of your textbooks and copy out the three pages describing Gamp's Law."

As everyone pulled out their quills and began to copy out their work, the professor once again shifted back into her tabby cat form before leaping up to sit on the desk. Now that the original excitement was over, Daphne could see that the cat bore white markings around its eyes very similar to the glasses that their professor wore. Even as a feline, she seemed to be glaring, and so Daphne quickly turned back to her paper and began to copy out the passages they had been told to copy.

In all honesty, Daphne had almost forgotten that Harry and Ron were not in class until she heard the large double-doors at the back of the room slam open. Turning her head, she watched in fascination as the two boys hurried down the aisle.

"Whew, we made it!" Ron cheered quietly to Harry as they approached the spare desk at the front. "Can you imagine the look on old McGonagall's face if we were late?"

Daphne winced, glancing quickly between the boys and the professor sitting on the desk. It was almost imperceptible, but Daphne was certain that the cat's eyes narrowed at Ron's words.

 _You're about to find out,_ she grimaced, feeling torn between fear and amusement as the professor transformed back into her human form as she approached Harry and Ron. Harry's jaw had dropped, and beside him, Ron seemed as if he wished he could swallow back his earlier words. Or, at the very least, he appeared to wish that the floor could swallow him whole.

"That was bloody brilliant," Ron tried to appease.

"Thank you for your assessment, Mr Weasley," McGonagall arched her eyebrows, glancing between the two of them. "Is there any particular reason that you have shown up to my class almost half an hour late? Perhaps if I were to transfigure one of you into a pocket watch, you might be on time."

"We got lost," Harry insisted. "We didn't mean to be late."

"Then perhaps a map?" The professor queried, though Daphne could see from where she sat that McGonagall's lips had almost twitched into a small smile. "Though I trust you do not need one to find your seats."

Heads bowed, Ron and Harry moved to their desk at the front of the room, directly across the aisle from where Daphne and Natalie were seated. Harry caught Daphne's eye as she glanced up from her work, biting back a grin, and she let out a quiet snort of laughter as he poked his tongue out in response to the widening smile on her face.

* * *

Ron's brothers–the twins–caught up to them as they walked from second period down to the dungeons for their first Potions class.

"Did old McGonagall turn you to stone?"

"Or perhaps into a rat for her to eat?"

Ron glared at Fred and George as they slung an arm over each of his shoulders, Fred further linking himself to Harry while George's other arm came to settle over Daphne.

"You knew?!" Ron exclaimed, turning his head to stare disbelieving at each of his brothers in turn. "You knew and you never, oh I don't know, told me?"

"Of course we knew–" Fred began airily.

"–but where would be the fun in telling you?" George finished, gripping Daphne's shoulder and tugging her out of the way of a group of tall Ravenclaw boys. She stumbled, and would have fallen flat if George's grip wasn't holding her upright.

"You all right?" He asked as Ron continued to interrogate his other brother.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," Daphne managed a small smile in response.

"You'll want to be careful with Snape," Fred said, drawing them back into the conversation, and Daphne turned her head to listen to him speak as Ron and Harry seemed to hang on to his every word. "He always favours the Slytherins."

"He'll dock tons of House Points from you for doing even the tiniest thing wrong," George continued warningly, "and award the snakes points for doing the exact same thing. Just don't screw up too bad and you'll be fine!"

With a wave, the twins walked off in the direction of their next class, and Ron visibly relaxed.

"They seem like a handful," Daphne commented mildly.

"You have no idea," groaned Ron, his face turning stony as they turned the corner into the hallway of their Potions class to see a small crowd gathering around a rather obnoxious platinum head of hair.

"This can't be good," Harry muttered.

"–can't believe that they allow people like–" Draco was ranting, Blaise and Theo appearing equally bored at his side as he continued his tirade. From where they stood at the opposite wall, Daphne could see that the majority of Draco's audience were Slytherins that Daphne recognised—Pansy Parkinson, Bastien Queensbury, Millicent Bulstrode and Holden Ledbury only some of the familiar faces as the scions of pureblood elite. The boys, Daphne knew at least, had little interest in Draco and it was evident on their faces as they murmured quietly to one another.

"People like who, Draco?" Daphne called, pushing off from the wall and walking over to the group, sensing Ron and Harry following close behind. "Insufferable brats? I think I agree."

Draco's lip curled, turning to Daphne with a knowing smirk. "If you're talking about your sister, Greengrass, I think we both agree on something for once."

Narrowing her eyes, Daphne stepped closer. "What did you say?"

Clearly, Draco was pleased that Daphne had taken the bait. Draco's face turned smug as Harry and Ron each stepped closer, setting their hands cautiously on her arms in a weak effort to hold her back.

"Can't you hear, Greengrass? I said–"

"And what is all of this noise about?"

A deathly silence fell over the corridor as a tall figure appeared in the doorway to the Potions classroom. Professor Snape's dark eyes glittered in the candlelight lining the dungeon walls as he glanced over the scene before him. Quickly, Daphne realised how it looked–Harry and Ron, holding her back as she faced Draco down–and stepped back. This seemed to appease the Potions Master, for he jerked his head towards the doorway and stepped aside as the students streamed into the room.

"Greengrass, over here!"

Turning wildly, startled, Daphne relaxed as she saw Imogen gesturing to her row. A girl with pale brunette hair sat at her side, and beside the mystery girl sat Holden and Bastien who watched her with identical smirks. Gesturing to Harry and Ron, Daphne filed into the row and took the seat beside Imogen while Hermione snagged the seat between Harry and Ron, to Ron's evident displeasure.

"Ella Wilkins," the girl beside Imogen introduced herself with a grin, offering her hand.

"Daphne," the Gryffindor replied, and Ella giggled. "Oh, I know."

Nodding her head to the right, Ella gestured to Bastien and Holden beside her.  
"Good to see you, Greenie," Holden greeted, causing Daphne to roll her eyes.

"I told you not to call me that," she reminded him half-heartedly, pulling out her parchment and shaking her head slightly at Harry's curious gaze before leaning in.

"We all met at some fancy function when we were kids. For the irony, my parents always made sure that my sister and I were dressed in green, so after about the sixth or seventh time, Bastien started calling us the "Greenies" as a joke. It stuck."

"Sounds like fun," Harry seemed almost wistful, reminding Daphne that he'd grown up with his magic-hating aunt and uncle. There wasn't any way that she could think of to comfort Harry, because she'd never been in his position, and she sat in thoughtful silence for a few moments.

"It was okay," she shrugged, unsure of how to respond, "For the most part, we would all end up sneaking into the empty side-rooms and playing games of Exploding Snap. The company wasn't always excellent–" Daphne glanced towards Draco, "–but it wasn't bad."

Quickly, she remembered that Harry had probably never heard of Exploding Snap.

"Maybe I'll teach you how to play sometime?" Daphne offered, glancing to the side as Harry pretended to think it over. "Yeah, alright."

They both quickly quietened as Professor Snape stalked down the aisle, his robe billowing out behind him as he turned on his heel to face the class.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," he intoned, the windows slamming shut and causing Daphne to jump in her seat. She heard Holden cackle quietly from further down the aisle and reached over to smack his arm as the professor continued. "You are here to learn the subtle art and exact science that is potion-making. Many of you will hardly believe that this is magic when there is so little involvement of your wands. Fewer still of you will understand the beauty of a cauldron, simmering softly with its shimmering fumes; the delicate power of liquids capable of slinking through your veins–"

As Professor Snape continued his monologue, Daphne's mind drifted back to when she was younger, and she and her sister were assisting their mother at _Spellbound_ for the day over summer. Astoria was only a year younger than Daphne, but she was still at the stage where anything shiny was intriguing and so while Daphne sat at their mother's side by the cauldron, watching carefully as the potioneer added the ingredients bit by bit, explaining what they did and what would happen if you did it wrong. The room–located at the back of the shop–was filled with a vaguely lilac haze, and the air shimmered in front of her as Daphne was briefly distracted by the golden flecks around her. The tranquillity was broken by a loud _crash_ , followed by a scream which sent both Greengrass women out into the store to find Astoria on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass and a neon orange potion spreading quickly in a large pool on the weathered stone. The new assistant, a third-year student at Hogwarts named Charlie, was already crouched at her side, turning her over to reveal the small cuts littering her arms.

As Genevieve rushed to her youngest daughter, Charlie cradling Astoria on his lap in order to keep as much of her skin out of contact with the potion, Daphne stood frozen by the doorway.

"Tori?" Daphne called quietly, her voice quivering as her mother's wand wafted over Astoria's arms first, then her legs–uncovered by the skirt she wore–healing her cuts and cleaning away the potion residue as she went. Finally, she woke Astoria with a rushed _rennervate_ , and her bright blue eyes blinked open to the relief of everyone in the room.

"Is she okay?"

Genevieve and Charlie both turned to the doorway where Daphne stood, her fingers twisting anxiously in the hem of her shirt.

"Yeah," Charlie nodded quickly, quirking his lips in an attempt to smile, "she's alright."

Taking careful steps forward, Daphne dropped down beside her sister, trembling as she hugged her close. Her chest felt less tight than it had before, but she couldn't get the scream out of her head.

The air shimmered lilac and gold before Daphne's eyes as she zoned back into the class, shaking her head slightly as she noted the concerned looks from Harry, Ron and Imogen. Though her Slytherin friends already knew about what had happened, she wasn't particularly in the mood to discuss it.

"Daphne Greengrass."

It seemed that she had zoned back in at precisely the right time as the professor called her name from the roll. She answered quickly, rolling her head on her neck as she attempted to clear her head.

"Are you alright?" Harry questioned, and Daphne brushed off his concern with a small smile. "Don't worry about me," she replied, turning back to Professor Snape as he paused at the next name on his roll.

"Ah, yes," he spoke softly, "Harry Potter–our new _celebrity_."

Something about his tone sounded off, almost coy, and it sent the hair standing up on the back of her neck. She could see Draco, Vincent and Gregory sniggering in the row in front of them, and exchanged looks with Ron and Harry as the professor continued down the list. It certainly didn't sound like the lesson was going to go particularly well.

"Now, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses; I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory–" at this, the professor paused as his black eyes roamed the classroom, briefly locking eyes with Harry. "–and even put a stopper in death."

To Daphne, this spiel sounded like a rather incredible exaggeration. Potions could do many things, she knew, but any potion capable of granting its user fame or glory was likely to be _illegal_ , at the very least.

"Potter!" Snape suddenly barked out. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Daphne knew the answer instantly, but she hesitated to raise her hand as the professor's eyes bore into Harry's own. She knew that Harry didn't have a clue–he had been raised in the Muggle world, and it was hardly a requirement for students to read their textbooks through before entering the classroom–and she had a sinking feeling that the professor was just as aware of this as she was.

"The Draught of Living Death," Daphne finally called out, interrupting Snape's staring contest with Harry as his eyes jumped to hers.

"Last I checked, Miss Greengrass," Snape's silky voice echoed through the classroom, the students staring in silence at the events unfolding. Even Draco, she could see, appeared a touch concerned as he glanced between her and the professor. "Your name was not Potter."

"With all due respect, Professor," Daphne bit back, "last I checked, students were not required to read through and entirely memorise their textbooks filled with a year's worth of information before entering a classroom. Harry was raised in a Muggle household; he didn't even know of the existence of magic until barely a month ago!"

Snape's lip curled, clearly amused by her display. "Be that as it may, if you speak out of turn once more it'll be five points from your house."

At this, Daphne could see several of her classmates shaking their heads in her direction, but she was pleased to note that Dean and Seamus in front of her seemed to be watching in encouragement.

In the following silence, the professor again turned to the boy to her left, and Daphne nudged him as a warning to keep quiet if he didn't know the answer, just hoping that he was able to understand her.

"Fame clearly isn't everything, Mr Potter, is it? Not when you need your friends–" the professor almost seemed to spit the word out of his mouth, "–to speak for you. Now," he continued, "let's try again, shall we? Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"A goat's stomach," Daphne answered instantly, her fingers digging into Harry's arm to keep him from stopping her, "or perhaps in your storage cupboard."

Her quip caused a few of her classmates to titter quietly with reigned-in laughter as the professor's eyes hardened. Solidly ignoring Hermione's arm dropping disappointedly back into her lap, as well as the girl's glares for disobeying their teacher, Daphne maintained eye contact with the Potions Master as he strode into their row to stand before her.

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Greengrass, and yet you seem incapable of holding your tongue between your teeth. Would you rather I questioned you instead?"

"Well, I thought that that would be obvious, sir," Daphne responded. "At least I have a chance of knowing the answers."

Snape's eyes seemed to light up in amusement at her response, and a calculating curiosity sat behind his gaze which caused Daphne to shiver slightly in discomfort.

"Tell me, Miss Greengrass, the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane."

The class seemed to be holding their breaths.

"There isn't one professor, they are both names given to aconite. I have a copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ if you'd like to borrow it."

This time no one laughed as Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Name me the five ingredients of the Draught of Peace and list in order each of the colour changes that the concoction goes through in the brewing process."

Daphne fell silent. Swallowing thickly, she pushed down the images floating to the surface of her memory, images of a golden lilac haze and her sister lying motionless on the cold stone floor. Of all of the potions, he had to go and mention the one that she would rather forget. She couldn't even fathom why he would be mentioning this particular elixir. It _had_ to be a fifth year potion, _at least._

"Powdered moonstone, Unicorn horn and Porcupine quills, Syrup of Hellebore, and Valerian root," she recited in her best imitation of indifference, crossing her arms defensively across her chest as if they could ward off the memories rising behind her eyes. "And the Draught is first green before changing to blue, purple, pink, turquoise, purple, red, orange–" in the corner of her eye, Daphne could see Dean and Seamus nodding to the rhythm of her voice, "–turquoise, purple, pink, red, purple, grey, orange and white." Daphne finished triumphantly, barely suppressing a smile as Seamus let out a quiet 'whoop' after she was done.

"Very impressive, Miss Greengrass," Snape interrupted, his silky voice replaced with a hard tone that did not go unnoticed as the classroom fell silent, "points for Gryffindor for your competence in an apothecary," he continued, Daphne's expression making way for a look of shock which the professor seemed to revel in, "but not as many as you just lost for your insolence."

Though a few of her classmates sighed as her sentence was read–Alison Denshaw the loudest among them, with Hermione a close second–Daphne nodded with acceptance and a touch of pride as Dean shot her a thumbs up before turning back around as the professor settled back at the front of the class.

Their main task for the lesson was the brewing of a simple Potion to Cure Boils. They were to be paired, which meant that Ron was to work with Hermione ("Help me," Ron murmured to Harry as they stood to collect their ingredients) while Daphne was paired with Harry.

They quickly figured out that it was better for both of them if he read the instructions from the textbook while Daphne actually handled the ingredients. She could tell that he was trying not to ask her something, but she didn't push the issue as she crushed the snake fangs in her mortar. It was an oddly relaxing experience, breaking and smashing the fangs into a fine powder. After they were added to the cauldron, the dried nettles were the next to be poured into the mixture as the mixture began to heat. With a quick wave of her wand, Daphne and Harry were soon able to leave the mixture to brew, and Daphne knew that she would _have_ to ask her companion about what it was he was avoiding saying.

"Harry?" She prompted, causing him to look away from the potion and in her direction. "What is it?"

He momentarily appeared confused, before running his hand through his hair. The movement gave Daphne a glance at the scar on his forehead, the branching lightning strike disappearing into his hairline before he habitually flattened his hair down over his forehead.

"What happened to you earlier?" He asked, and Daphne could easily guess that he was referring to when she zoned out during Professor Snape's introduction.

"It was nothing," she brushed off, "I just remembered something that happened at _Spellbound_ a few years ago.

" _Spellbound_?" Bastien questioned from a bit further away, leaning closer towards them. "Was that when Astoria–"

"Yes," Daphne cut him off, shooting him a reproachful glare. He retreated but didn't seem to be terribly sorry for listening in on their conversation. "But like I said, it was nothing."

"What _was_ it?" Harry pressed, and Daphne sighed as she twisted her hair between her fingers.

"It was an accident at mum's apothecary," she answered finally, forcefully pushing down the nauseated feeling rooting itself deep in her stomach, "Astoria dropped a bottle and it smashed all over the floor. She passed out, and had cuts all over her arms and everything. Charlie and mum were able to heal her, and she's okay now," she added hurriedly to assuage Harry's look of concern, "but it isn't my fondest memory."

"Wait, Charlie? As in my brother?" Ron asked from beside them, and Daphne nodded as she uncapped the jar of horned slugs and selected four of the slimy specimen to add to the cauldron before taking it off of the fire. "Yeah, one and the same. He apprenticed for my mum over the summers, he said it was so that he could earn extra money to head off to some dragon reserve. Russia?" She asked, carefully adding two Porcupine quills as the professor passed by. He raised an eyebrow at the cauldron before reluctantly nodding at Daphne–and Daphne only, she noticed, not Harry–and moving on.

"Romania," Ron corrected, and Daphne let out a small sound of recognition. "He's studying to become a dragonologist."

Finishing her stirring, the potion turned a shimmery navy blue to indicate that it was essentially finished, and Daphne waved her wand once more to finish the brewing process before taking several phials to fill with the elixir and reciting the incantation in the textbook in order to clear the rest from the cauldron. Setting their phial on Snape's desk and waiting for the professor's nod of recognition before moving back to her table, Daphne had just finished putting her ingredients away in her bag when she happened to glance up just in time to see Neville drop his Porcupine quills into his cauldron from his place next to her and Harry's work station.

While it still sat on the fire.

"Neville, wait!" She called in alarm, too late to do anything as a loud hissing sound filled the dungeon and thick, acid green smoke billowed into the air. Several students cried out in alarm, while Daphne pushed through them to get to the boy until she was forced to jump out of the way to avoid a seeping blob of what appeared to be the remains of the cauldron he had been using. Several people's shoes were being burned through as it continued to move through the classroom, the professor darting to prevent it from making an escape into the hallway.

Her attention was drawn back to Neville as he let out a loud moan, and Daphne couldn't stop the gasp escaping her as she looked down to see large boils covering Neville's arms and legs.

"Out of the way!" Snape demanded, pushing past to reach him. "Idiot boy," he admonished, snarling.

"Take him to the hospital wing," he ordered Seamus, who had been working with Neville, before rounding on Harry. "Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills, Potter? Did you think that he'd make you look better if you got it wrong?"

"Professor!" Daphne exclaimed, disbelief colouring her face as Snape turned quickly at the sound of her voice. "How was he supposed to know? He was putting away the rest of the ingredients while I handed you our phial; he would never have seen Neville until it was too late."

The logic seemed to satiate the Potions Master, which did little to quell his anger, but he stalked off without another word.

At the end of the class, Ron and Harry almost tripped over each other in their hurry to leave the dungeons and get to their brief morning break, but Daphne stayed behind for a few moments and waited for the classroom to clear.

"What is it, Miss Greengrass?" Snape asked boredly from his desk, where he sat examining each of the potions capped before him.

"I was just wondering if I could take Neville's bag?" She asked, gesturing to where the professor hat set it behind his desk after the boy had left the room. "I figured I would return it to him at the hospital wing before History of Magic."

This seemed to surprise the professor, who leant back to look at her for several moments, considering her with a thoughtful gaze before nodding his head to the bag, the corner of which had been eaten away by the acidic mixture Neville had accidentally created.

She didn't bother to say thank you, something which she knew that her mother would admonish her for if she ever did it at home, instead rushing out of the classroom and trying desperately to remember the directions that Snape had given Seamus earlier. At last, she found the infirmary on the fourth floor of what she later discovered was called the "Hospital Tower", shouldering open the doors while carefully holding Neville's bag in her arms.

"And just what are you doing here?" The school matron, Madam Pomfrey, gave her a querying once-over as she paused briefly in her treatment of a familiar face.

"Cedric?" Daphne questioned, walking over to the foot of the bed while Cedric winced when the matron prodded at his ankle.

"Hey, Daph," he greeted, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to return something to a friend, but I could ask you the same thing," she responded in kind, lifting the bag aloft very briefly.

"Only a small sprain," Cedric reassured, "nothing too serious. What about your friend?"

"Bad potion," she advised, fighting back a grin at the accompanying look that Cedric shot her at her words, crossed between screwing his face up at a pungent smell and having seen an acromantula. "Madam Pomfrey, where's Neville Longbottom?"

"Just over there," she nodded in response after Daphne turned to her. "The boils have almost receded by now, so he'll be out of here before his next class."

Offering her thanks, Daphne tossed a wave over her shoulder in Cedric's direction as she made her way over to Neville's cubicle. Pushing the divider aside, Daphne let out a small groan of sympathy as Neville turned to her in surprise. "Greengrass? What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd bring you your bag," she dropped it by the bedside table emphatically, "apparently you'll be fine for History of Magic?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking uncomfortable, "the boils have almost all gone by now. Thanks."

"No problem, Longbottom," she brushed it off, saying goodbye before rushing out the door and down into the Great Hall just in time to slide next to Ron and snatch up a bowl of raspberries.

"Where were you?" He asked.

"I went to see Longbottom at the Hospital Wing," she shrugged.

"The Hospital Wing?"

Miraculously, the twins suddenly appeared to sit on Ron's other side. Daphne held back a laugh at the look on Ron's face, instead turning to the older boys and affirming what she had just said.

"Longbottom added Porcupine quills to a Cure Boils potion without taking the cauldron off of the heat," she explained, causing the twins to wince. "But other than that, the class was fine, right Harry?"

Across from her, Harry screwed up his face in response.

"Snape have it in for you?" Fred questioned mildly.

"You'd think that he was a school bully, the way he was acting," Daphne scowled into her bowl, "it was completely ridiculous!"

"You didn't have to antagonise him," Hermione interrupted scoldingly from further down the table, "you lost us house points!"

"So you think what he was doing was fair then?" The blonde questioned, raising an eyebrow. Dean sat between them, his gaze flickering to each side as he cautiously continued to eat his sandwich.

"Of course not!" Hermione looked affronted. "But you _can't_ just talk back to the teachers!"

"Why not?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "Why should we respect him when he clearly doesn't respect us?"

Several heads along the table nodded in agreement, causing Hermione to huff and mutter under her breath as she turned back to her own snack foods.

Table conversation dissolved into far lighter topics as Seamus regaled them with the story of how he found out that he had magic.

"Was she alright?" Daphne asked amidst the laughter.

"Eventually," he shrugged, grinning, "she didn't forgive me for a long while, though."

As the students around them began to stand to go to their classes, Daphne nudged Ron.

"Come on," she sighed, plucking the final raspberry from the bowl before it refilled itself. "We've got to get to History of Magic."

* * *

" _How_ was that a lucky guess?"

Daphne shrugged playfully as she dropped down at the base of a large tree overlooking the lake. Despite it being their first day of classes, they already had _several_ scrolls of homework to complete and after spending their last period in Defence Against the Dark Arts in Professor Quirrell's classroom, which smelled hideously of garlic, they had decided to study in as much fresh air as possible. Several other students were studying outside, including two Ravenclaws named Cordelia Gifford and Andrea Kegsworth, who were playing in the shallows of the lake. It wasn't very warm, being September, but the sunny day had warmed the air and made the grass perfectly pleasant to sit on as Daphne began to take out her books and parchment. Ron and Harry sat down soon after, still arguing between each other about how it was possible that Harry was able to guess the _exact_ year of the Gargoyle Strike without ever having knowledge of the magical world until only a month ago.

Easily the most boring of their classes was History of Magic. Daphne found the subject itself really interesting, but all of her previous excitement for the class faded as they entered and realised that their professor was a ghost. Professor Binns had been old as it was when he fell asleep in front of the fireplace in the staffroom and woke up to teach his classes the following morning while leaving his body behind. His class was dull enough that about one third of the students fell asleep themselves just listening to him drone on about Uric the Oddball, which meant that it would almost definitely be the most difficult homework they had to complete.

By the time that the sun was beginning to set over the mountains surrounding the lake, the evening air had turned cold and the three of them had started to shiver beneath their robes. Hastily, they collected all of their belongings, shoved them into Daphne's bag, and raced one another back to the dining hall.

"What about Flitwick?"

As Daphne, Ron and Harry slid into their seats at the dining table, Daphne turned and raised an eyebrow to Dean.

"We were just going over our classes so far," Seamus explained from across the table. "What did you think of Flitwick?"

"Well," Daphne began, chewing a small carrot intently. "He was certainly amusing."

Professor Flitwick, the head of house for Ravenclaw and Charms professor, was a rather small wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk; as he'd been reading the roll, he'd given an excited squeak upon reaching Harry's name before toppling out of sight.

"Though," she continued, stealing a couple of small carrots from Harry's plate as she waited for the carrot plate to refill, grinning as he tossed an exasperated look her way, "so far Charms has been my favourite class. Did you see the look on Draco's face when Flitwick charmed his hair red for mocking Anna's _lumos_?"

The five of them–Dean, Seamus, Ron, Harry and Daphne–took a moment to gleefully recall how, after Draco had loudly blamed Anna's flickering Wand-Lighting Charm on her mother's Muggle-born blood, Professor Flitwick had quite casually turned Draco's hair a rather vibrant shade of vermilion. Draco, horrified, had stormed to the very back of the class to avoid people looking at his hair. Draco's hair had faded back to its platinum blonde by the time the class was over, but that didn't stop him from fleeing out of the door the moment that class ended. His cocky attitude had clearly returned by the time that they made it to Potions, but in hindsight it didn't really matter. Draco's face when he realised that the class were laughing at _him_ and not Anna was more than enough.

"So, Daphne," Dean began, "how'd you know that Neville was about to make a mistake?"

Seamus and Neville appeared equally as curious for her answer, causing Daphne to shrug slightly as she twisted her pasta around her fork.

"My mum's a potioneer," she explained, "she runs an apothecary in Diagon Alley. I've seen her make the potion before while going through restocks."

"That's cool," Neville said admiringly, "that your mum's a potioneer. You must be an expert then!"

"Merlin, no," she scoffed, "I've never actually made one myself before, and I didn't used to hang out at the shop very often. I'd usually just wander down to Flourish and Blotts or to Fortescue's. But she always used to tell us what you _shouldn't_ do when making certain potions, and I remembered her saying that we had to take the cauldron off of the heat before adding Porcupine quills to any potion unless we wanted to be wearing it."

"Solid advice," Dean nodded. "Mind writing my potions homework for me?"

Daphne laughed and shoved his arm playfully. "Not happening."

* * *

Later that night, Daphne sat curled in the corner of the sofa in front of the fireplace, glaring at the match on the table in front of her. She had been practicing the spell they learnt earlier in Transfiguration, and while she'd pretty much gotten the colour just right, it didn't show any sign of transforming into any sort of metal. With a sigh, she picked it up and tossed it into the fire, watching it burn for several moments before pulling another match out of the box.

"Wait, Hermione!"

Daphne called out to the brunette witch just as she reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the dormitories. It clearly came as a surprise, and Hermione blinked several times in succession before walking over. "What is it?"

"I wanted to ask for your help," Daphne admitted, setting the match on the table. "Watch."

Screwing up her nose slightly, she tried to concentrate on the end goal–silver, pointed, _pointed_ –only to watch in disappointment as it again turned silver without otherwise changing its appearance.

"I've been trying to get it right all evening," she flicked it into the fireplace morosely. "But you got it right in class before! How did you get it to work?"

"Well," Hermione considered, perching on the edge of the accompanying chair, "it's all to do with visualising it, isn't it? If you can't imagine it _actually_ looking like a needle, it won't."

"So I need to...picture it?" Daphne clarified doubtfully, glancing between Hermione and her matchbox. " _That's_ all that you did?"

Hermione nodded before gesturing for the matchbox. Daphne complied, handing it over as the bushy-haired girl plucked two matches out from the box. "Here, watch."

Setting one match on the table, Hermione pulled her wand from her robes and closed her eyes for a time, her wand hovering over the match. Suddenly, she murmured the spell under her breath, and Daphne watched disbelievingly as it changed before her eyes into a silver needle. It wasn't fully pointed, but it was certainly more metallic than all of Daphne's previous attempts had been.  
"Alright, then," she muttered under her breath, steadying herself as she raised her wand and closed her eyes.

Behind her eyelids, she did her best to imagine a needle, one that her father might have used to sew up the holes in the toes of his socks. It was silver and pointed, a rounded hole at the top with navy thread poking through, the metallic sheen glistening against the light of the fireplace. Quietly murmuring the spell, Daphne opened her eyes and grinned as she caught sight of her match on the table. Like Hermione's, it wasn't pointy enough to use to sew with, but it was no longer just a silver matchstick!

"Thank you so much, Hermione," she sighed in relief, slumping back against the couch as she rolled the match-needle between her fingers. "You're brilliant."

The girl beside her shrugged, pink tinting her cheeks. "It's alright."

As the brunette stood and moved towards the dormitory, Daphne called back out to her. "Wait!"

She raised her eyebrows as she turned, waiting.

"I'm sorry for what happened at lunch," Daphne began, her fingers twisting at the hem of her shirt. "I didn't mean to get so defensive."

Hermione shrugged. "It's okay. Besides," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "it was pretty cool."

Grinning, Daphne waved goodnight as Hermione climbed the stairs, looking into the fire for several moments in contemplation before pulling out her extended bag from her pocket. Rummaging through, she felt her fingers brush over a familiar leather spine and pulled until the dark green journal was sitting on the sofa beside her.

Tucking her legs up next to her, Daphne pulled the journal into her lap and began to read, only heading up to the dormitory as she felt her eyes struggling to stay open. She barely acknowledged the girls that were still awake, waving blindly at Natalie and Anna as she hurriedly shrugged on her pyjamas before slumping into bed.

If their first day had been _this_ eventful, what could they expect from the rest?


End file.
